


vanishing stardust

by taykash



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taykash/pseuds/taykash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nino wasn't prepared by Jun's departure, but he also wasn't surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vanishing stardust

**Author's Note:**

> Written for piggywhale for Nino Exchange 2016.

Everyone noticed the end coming except for Nino.

All the signs were there, he admitted to himself later, but he chose to ignore them: Sho taking him out for dinner and looking at him the whole time as though there were words trapped in his mouth; Aiba coaxing him into an all-night Mario Kart tournament even though Aiba had work the next morning, to which he stumbled out, the mark on top of the controller’s joystick imprinted into his cheek; Ohno coming to him with freshly baked milk bread that Nino didn’t even trick him into buying. Everyone was trying to give him the signs and Nino pulled the blindfold over his own eyes as though he were Lady Justice in the latent hope that everything would turn out right in the end.

But Jun, beloved Jun, was moving out of reach of Nino’s stretched out fingertips. Nino _knew_ , no matter how much he loved Jun, that Jun could do better, had done better before, was slumming it with Nino. But he tried, despite his inherent laziness and anti-socialness, but even his best wasn’t good enough. 

It was bound to happen – Jun was gregarious and outgoing, goofy and the life of the party. He loved being out and partaking in events, art exhibits and nightclub events and plays and ballets. He had a collection of hats that took up an entire wall of his walk-in closet. His job as a designer meant that he schmoozed with the beautiful, but to Nino Jun was the most beautiful of them all.

Nino was just a manager at a toy company, a regular salaryman that sometimes came home with radio cars that he would make zip around the floor of the apartment. His preferred weekends were shrouded in darkness, the sounds around him not the chatty laughter of small talk and clinking glasses but that of video game music and his cursing or jubilation.

And yet, he looked away. Love could overcome lots of things, even a personality mismatch. That’s what Nino chose to believe.

And yet, when Jun sat him down over a dinner that he had made (Nino will never forget the taste of the cream sauce, the dairy making him sick as he picked through his food) and said that he was leaving, Nino was blindsided. The words hurt as though Jun had punched him in the mouth with his favorite silver ring. 

“This isn’t working,” Jun kept saying. He looked regretful, and Nino watched the flutter of his long eyelashes brush against his cheeks. Jun’s eyelashes were like dancer’s fans gracefully moving through the air, and Nino had memorized the image of them on Jun’s pale skin when he slept. 

“I’ll go out more often,” Nino tried, his voice strained. It was a lie, and both of them knew it. “I can be better.”

Jun shook his head. He had recently cut his hair and his bangs were shorter than he had ever had them; Nino quite liked the look on him, it made him look younger. But he wasn’t able to hide behind his hair anymore, and the expression on his face made Nino’s chest hurt. Maybe he was having a heart attack. Maybe Jun was his heart, and the pain Nino was feeling was the loss of the organ that kept him together.

“I’m sorry,” Jun finally whispered, and Nino knew it was over. He’d always been a lousy boyfriend.

Jun didn’t spend the night in their apartment. The bed was too big for Nino, and anyway, the sheets were originally Jun’s and it smelled of Jun’s preferred laundry detergent. Instead, Nino curled up on the couch with his ratty Dragon Quest blanket in his oldest sweats. Jun had hated those sweats. There were holes in them and no matter how much they were washed there were mysterious food stains on them, but Nino refused to throw them away.

Maybe he should have. Maybe that was the problem. Nino was never good at being an _us_ , so even when there was an _us_ , Nino put _me_ first. It usually didn’t matter. He had run through a string of girlfriends, girls younger than him that he liked to introduce to his hobbies. But they eventually tired of him and his hobbies and his one-sided conversations, and anyway, he’d come to realize he preferred men.

Jun was the first one he’d been able to put the word _love_ to, the only one he’d been willing to move in with and share his most precious space with. But really, that’s all Nino ever actually shared. 

Aiba whisked him away the next day and Nino tried to pretend he didn’t know it was because Jun was coming for his things. 

“It’ll be okay,” Aiba reassured him over a bowl of ramen that had a slick of oil sitting on top. The sight of the char siu made Nino feel sick, and he sipped his water instead of eating. Jun liked ramen, but he also enjoyed eating healthy, and Nino had complained about the number of vegetables Jun usually prepared for dinner. Maybe that’s why. Nino should’ve sucked it up and eaten the kale, the celery root, the Swiss chard. 

“Do you want to stay with me for a little while?” Aiba asked. Aiba was his best friend, the one who’d been around since they were big-eyed 6 year olds playing catch on the school playground. Aiba’d been around for the girlfriends, the one night stands, the early euphoric days of Jun when Nino almost forgot that anyone else existed. That was exactly why Nino didn’t want to be around him right now.

“No, I’m okay,” Nino lied. Aiba looked like he had so many phrases that he wanted to say and Nino knew them all by heart – “you’ll get over it,” “it’s fine,” “there’s plenty of fish in the sea,” everything that Aiba had said to him for previous breakups. They were true for previous breakups. Nino couldn’t see how they’d be true for Jun.

“Come over if you need to,” Aiba insisted, pulling out a crumpled bill out of his pocket to pay for the ramen. “Please don’t stay alone in that apartment.”

Nino nodded silently, and stood up, away from his full bowl. 

The apartment was half-empty when he arrived, most of the art on the walls and decorations gone. The bookshelves were missing manga volumes and framed photos. His video game shelf was untouched. There had been nothing of Jun there.

Nino sat down on the couch, alone. He sighed once, then turned on a gaming console.

It was about three days before the knocking came. Nino was wrapped in his blanket on the floor, empty delivery cartons and tea mugs littering the area around him. He wasn’t sure what time of day it was – he had pulled the blackout curtains shut so the only light shining in the room was the blue light of the TV. 

Eventually the knocking gave way to the sound of a key turning in the lock and his door opening. Jun had left his key when he moved out, so there was only one other person it could be. Nino groaned, adjusting his blanket so most of it covered his face. Sho was not the person Nino wanted to see right now – though the list of people that Nino wanted to see had no names on it, anyway.

Sho rustled his way down the hall to the living room, and sighed when he saw the state of it. His rustling came from the various plastic bags he carried. Without a word, he yanked open the blackout curtains so sunlight streamed into the room. Nino grunted in disapproval.

“It’s noon,” Sho said, “And you are going to take a shower. I brought lunch. We’ll eat after you change.”

Nino wanted to argue, wanted to kick him out of the apartment, wanted to rot in his own filth. But it was easier to just stand up, blanket still clutched around him like an anchor, and shuffle to the bath.

When he came back, Sho was spooning food into dishes. There was Nino’s favorite hamburg, along with French fries, rice, and an out-of-place bowl of miso soup.

“My mother would never approve of this meal,” Nino pointed out as he sat down. He had changed into a ratty pair of shorts and a t-shirt with holes in it, and his hair was dripping down his face. “Nothing’s green.”

“You wouldn’t eat anything green right now even if I had some,” Sho scoffed, setting the plate in front of him. “You can be healthy later, you just need to eat something now. You’ve been living off of cup ramen, haven’t you?”

“Not just,” Nino protested, cutting a bite of his hamburg. “I got some gyoza from the Chinese place.”

“Protein,” Sho conceded with a sigh as he sipped his soup. He watched Nino silently for a moment, something Nino always hated. Sho had a particular gaze when he was worried, one where his eyebrows tilted like mountains, and being on the receiving end of it made Nino want to hide in a place where sunlight couldn’t reach.

“Heard from Jun?” Nino asked casually, popping a fry into his mouth.

Sho hesitated, and finally nodded. “He’s with Shun for now,” Sho said. Shun was Jun’s married best friend, and knowing that Jun preferred staying in Shun’s tiny guest room hearing the nightly cries of a baby made Nino feel even worse.

“He had a place lined up, but something happened with the plumbing or something and the landlord made him wait a week or so before he can move in,” Sho continued. “I’m not sure where it is though.”

Nino made a small noise of acknowledgement through his nose. Knowing Jun, it was somewhere swanky, close to the center of everything. They had chosen this apartment as a compromise between the two of them – Nino wanted to be further out, while Jun wanted to be more central. Nino didn’t need high ceilings or large windows, while Jun loved airy, open spaces. In the end, everything in the apartment ended up too much for Nino and middling for Jun. 

“Are you going to stay here?” Sho asked, taking a glance around the kitchen. Pretty much all of the cookware and china were Jun’s, but he had kindly left the bare minimum for Nino – a plate or two, a bowl, a cup. His chopsticks, patterned with red and blue mushrooms from Super Mario. Jun’s chopsticks had been made of cherry and had a mother-of-pearl inlay.

Nino shrugged. He didn’t have any reason to leave, but he didn’t have any reason to stay, either.

“Why not come stay with me for a little while?” Sho urged, but the sounds of Sho’s cutlery against his plate were already annoying Nino. “Fine, not me, then – Ohno-kun? He won’t bother you.” 

“I’m not a child,” Nino sighed, putting his utensils down. He’d only eaten half the plate, but he was full. Full of Sho’s concern, full of his own grief. “I don’t need a guardian.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Sho argued, sauce glimmering on his lips. “But it’s nice to not be alone so suddenly.”

“I’ll be alone no matter what,” Nino pointed out, “so I might as well get used to it. Thanks for the food.” Nino hopped off his seat and turned to walk out of the kitchen, his hair having left trails of water down his back and on the wooden seat. Jun hated when he didn’t dry his hair properly.

Nino picked up his game controller again and started playing in order to drown out the sounds of Sho loading the dishwasher before he quietly left without a word. That was Sho’s good point – Aiba would nag and nag and nag and nag until he _forced_ Nino to feel better, but Sho was actually comforting in times like this and knew when to retreat. Nino knew he’d most likely be back in a few days to repeat the whole cycle again, and as much as Nino wanted to be left alone, he appreciated it. Maybe when he felt better, if he ever felt better, he’d take Sho out for – not ramen. Maybe udon. Sho loved udon. 

\--- 

A year later, Nino had moved out of the apartment he had shared with Jun and into a smaller one in a quiet part of the city. He had chosen the apartment not just because of the size and area, but the defining factor of the convenience store directly next to the building. Within a month of moving there, he had become fast friends with most of the employees, all of whom had learned his preference of cup noodle flavor and that he did want his bento heated, thank you.

His life had gone back to what it was Pre-Jun, his commute to work, his commute back, a few hours of gaming before a bath and bed. Sometimes he drank fancy tea that Sho gave him, sometimes Aiba came over and they had a fierce Street Fighter tournament that kept them up until the sun was so high in the sky they both had no choice to call in sick. On nice days he would meet Ohno in the park where he would strum a guitar lazily as Ohno drew quick portraits of some of the people in the park, but mostly of the dogs. 

It was one of those lazy park days where he saw Jun for the first time since the break-up. Nino actually had a folder of unwritten e-mails he had poured his feelings out into but didn’t send; he wasn’t one to dredge up past feelings. Jun didn’t want to be with him anymore, so why would Nino fight it? But there Jun was, wearing black running tights and black shorts and a star-spangled windbreaker, topped off with designer sunglasses to block out the sun. Despite his clothes, he was just walking down the path, the same path Nino was sitting near.

Sure enough, Jun slowed as he neared and stopped in front of Nino and Ohno. Ohno didn’t hesitate to stand up and wander away without a word. Nino of a few months ago would’ve hated him for that, but right now all Nino could do was stare up at Jun. There was a lump in his throat that he didn’t want to admit; he’d missed him.

“Hi,” Jun finally said, taking his sunglasses off.

“Hey,” Nino replied, hoping he sounded casual. “You look – like you’re doing well.” _Great_ , Nino wanted to say. Jun always looked great in Nino’s eyes. 

“I’m doing okay,” Jun shrugged, kicking the toe of his purple sneakers into the grass. “You look good,” he added, and Nino strummed a G chord in response with a half-smile.

“Wanna get lunch sometime?” Nino asked impulsively. The most Jun could say was no, and it would destroy Nino even though he wouldn’t admit it, but – 

“Sure,” Jun said after a pause. “Let’s get ramen.”

“Let’s,” Nino said, and the sun had never shone so bright as the smile Jun gave him in return.


End file.
